LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

'v^<S Trars 

Wiap. Copyright Ko. 

~~ 19 00 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Village Verse. 






W. H. SHERIDAN McGLUMPHY. 



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The Editor Publishing Company 
cincinnati 



1900. 

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COPYRIGHTED 

BY 

W. H. SHERIDAN McGLUMPHY. 

1900. 



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CONTENTS. 

The Angel of Dreams - - - - 10 

Far off Fields Look Green - _ - 12 

The Old Songs 14 

Night ..-_-. 16 

Bugler Bob ----- 17 

The Sweetest Measure - - - 19 
Jim -------20 

Relief ------ 22 

The Value of a Smile - - - - 23 

When th' Leaves ar' Puttin' Out - - 24 

Winter - - - - - - 25 

The Fakir ----- 26 

Th' Autumn in th' Air - - - - 27 

A Prayer _ - . - _ 29 

The Old Man's Reverie - - - - 30 

To the Year '99 - - - - - 32 

Santa is Coming To-night - - - 33 

A Diamond in the Rough - - _ 34 

Christmas Bells - - - - - 36 

The Doctor ----- 37 

Chronic Cases - - - - - 39 

October ------ 40 

The Private and His Pard - - - 41 

All's Well that Ends Well - - - 43 

Uncle Sam's Burden - - - - 45 

The Beaten Path - - - - 47 



The Old Man and the Hoe _ - - 49 

The Flag Abroad . . - - 51 

Kindness ------ 54 

Papa, Be a Good Boy - - - - 55 

Duty and Desire ----- 56 

Where Sweeps Missouri's Turbid Tide - 57 

Indifference - - - - - 59 

Awake ------ 60 

My Good Ole Home - . - - 61 

Decoration Day ----- 62 

Tireless Talker - - - . 63 

The Old Water Mill - - - - 65 

Th' Feller who duz'nt know it All - - 67 

The Goal ------ 69 

The Banquet ----- 70 

The Haunts of the Woodland - - - 71 

Boyhood Town ----- 72 

My Ship 74 

Mistah Funstun ----- 75 

Crowding Worry from the Mind - - 76 

Trouble 78 

The Old Brown Water Jug - - - 79 

Jus' Keep Still 81 

The Fellow who Can, Will and Does - 83 

The End ------ 84 



PREFATORY SOLILOQUY. 

If. perchance, this book contains a thought that 

makes a day seem brighter; 
Or if, mayhap, a thought expressed may make 

some burden lighter; 
Or e'en a weary hour is made, because of it, less 

weary. 
And life, for even one sad heart may be less harsh 

and dreary — 

This effort were not vain. 

W. H. S. McG. 

Kingston, Mo., Sept. 1900. 



Village Verse 



V\LLf\QE VERSE. 



The Angel of Dreams. 

The Angel of Dreams, on her silver throne 

Far out in the azure sky, 
Sends forth her silent messengers 

As the shades of night pass by. 

They travel east and they travel west, 
And around the world they go; 

They enter the rich inan's terraced home, 
And the hovel of want and woe. 

They scatter dreams as they pass along — 
Of happiness, hope and joy; 

Alike they fall on the crowned head. 
And that of the pauper boy. 

The desolate home is furnished rich, 
While the terraced home is bare — 

The Angel of Dreams reverses life. 
So that each may have his share. 

"When daylight silently breaks the night, 
The messengers then return ; 

And many regret it is but a dream — 
While others the visions spurn. 

11 



Far off Fields Look Green, 

I'd like to rattle out of town in an English jaunting 

car, 
To seek for rest and quiet in the woodland fields 

afar; 
And leave the dingy office and its darkened walls 

behind, 
And find some quiet corner to rest the weary mind. 



I'd like to ramble o'er the fields where as a boy I 

strayed, 
Or take a stroll beside the brook where as a boy I 

played ; 
When life was free from turmoil, when I had so 

little care. 
And birds were warbling sweetly and joy perfuined 

the air. 



The town is dull and dusty. Oh, could I step aside 
And wander down the meadow with Rover by my 

side! 
I'd seek refreshing shadows beneath the old elm 

tree. 
And the birds would sing their carols to Rover and 

to me. 

12 



And the gentle winds of heaven would lull me fast 

asleep, 
And Rover, faithful Rover, he would then his vigil 

keep. 
Until the sun was setting and then we'd homeward 

go 
With hearts so light and cheerful, by the path we 

used to know. 

I'm weary, yes, I'm weary of the daily office grind ; 

The company of loafers; I'd be glad to leave be- 
hind. 

The humdrum noise and rattle of the travel on the 
street; 

Oh, a few days in the country would be happiness 
complete ! 



13 



The Old Songs. 

I like tu go tu meetin' 

Where they sing th' good ol' songs, 
'At makes a man feel happy 

But sorry fer his wrongs ; 
It stirs my very bein' 

Tu liear th' echoes roll, 
"When th' choir is singin' softly — 

"Jesus, Lover of My Soul." 

An' when th' choir's quit singin' 

Th' eclioes die away — 
Th' good ol' white-haired parson 

Kneels feebly down tu pray; 
It seems th' inspiration 

He's caught frum that ol' song 
Would bear him up tu Heaven — 

An' take us sinners 'long. 

Windin' up his fervent pray'r 

With one long, loud Amen ! 
Which seems tu be a signal 

Fer th' choir tu start agen. 
An' th' echoes cease tu slumber 

An' Heaven seems s' nigh, 
While a clear, sweet voice is singin' — 

''While the Days ar' Passing By.' 

14 



An' I think when I reach Heaven- 

As I hope sumtime t' do, 
An' hear th' heavenly chorus — 

Th' songs will not be new. 
I fancy they'll be singin' 

A song tu welcome me, 
An' I'll jine in th' chorus — 

''Nearer, My God, to Thee." 



15 



Night 



Silently the shades of evening 

Fall around my cottage home ; 
Brightly now the stars are twinkling 

In Heaven's spacious dome. 
It is night. 

And the glitt'ring moonbeams falling, 

Shedding such a tender light; 
While the gentle zephyrs whisper: 

"Fare thee well— Good night, Good night.*' 
It is night. 

Another day with many cares 

Is o'er. How glad we welcome rest; 

While this old world so full of care 
In nightly robes is dressed. 
It is night. 



16 



Bugler Boh. 



(Dedicated to R. U. Miller.) 

A familiar face and figure passes slowly down the 

street — 
A bended hickory cane attends the wandering feet; 
Beneath a brown and faded cap that's niucli the 

worse for wear, 
The years have marked their passing in those gray 

locks of liair. 

Tho' years agone and numbered with the soon for- 
gotten past, 

His face was young and handsome, his heart beat 
strong and fast; 

His feet were then unwavering, his form unbent by 
care 

His eye was bright and laughing and raven black 
his hair. 

Then came the cruel war. Amid its battles' loud- 
est roar, 

When cannon unto cannon spoke and echoed o'er 
and o'er — 

Above the din of battle, the musket, cannon, all — 

Distinct, unfaltering, could be heard that piercing 
bugle call. 

17 



Wounded? Ah, yes, crippled and shattered of limb 

he came 
Back to his home at the close of war, unknown to 

fame ; 
Yet, his true devotion in his country's hour of need» 
Deserves our admiration as of a hero true indeed. 

May the years to come deal kindly and may his 

friends prove ever true. 
To the soldier boy of '61 and all his comrades, too; 
And when the taps are sounded and their true 

hearts cease to throb, 
A multitude will miss him— our old friend. Bugler 

Bob. 



18 



The Sweetest Measure, 

How bright and happy life would be- 
How full of joy and pleasure — 

Did we omit discordant notes, 

And sing the sweetest measure ! 

The world hears oft of care and woe- 
Will you increase its sadness? 

Or only see the brightest side, 

And help to swell the gladness. 

Discard that frown and wail of woe; 

Seek first life's rarest treasure — 
Contentment is the guest of those 

Who sing the sweetest measure. 



19 



Jim. 

D'ye see that pictur yander 

A hangin' on th' wall? 
He wuz th' pride uv his father 

An' mother an' friends an' all. 
But he left us fer the army, 

His country needed him; 
I sez: "If y' think it's yer dooty,. 

Don't stay't home,dear Jim." 

So, Jim wuz off to th' army. 

After two months er more 
We heerd they'd landed safely 

Down there on Cuba's shore. 
Then kum thatawful fightirj 

An', stranger, that boy, Jim 
Wuz right in th' thickest skirmish— 
Nothin' never could skeer him. 

Then kum sum anxious waitin', 

An' a week er so had past 
When Michael kum frum th' office, 

With a letter fer us at last. 
^Twus a letter frum a comrade 

Who said he'd seen Jim fall — 
An' said he still wuz missin' 

An' stranger —that wuz all. 

20 



An' we waited on in sadness 

Till a month passed o'er our head, 
An' then we seen 'twas useless — 

An' mourned our boy fer dead. 
Say, you wuz in th' army? 

Jb"raps you know'd our Jim? 
He wuz a big-, stout, healthy lad. 

An' well, you're bout's tail's him; 

Wuzn't quite's pale's you, 

Smooth-faced, didn't wear no beard; 
An' yer voice is ruther husky — 

Jim's wuz dear's y' ever heerd. 
Still, there's sumthin' in yer manner 

'At reminds me lots uv him — 
What's that yer sayin'. Mother? 

' Y bless my heart— it's Jim ! 



21 



Relief. 

When trials come and billows roll 

O'er life's tempestuous sea, 
And darkness twines itself about 

And would enc(>mpass me; 

And clouds are flying thick and fast 

Across the darkened sky, 
While friends I meet seem friends no more, 

But coldly pass me by ! 

'Tis then the light from Heaven's throne 

My weary soul illumes ; 
The heart made sad by wordly care, 

More of God's love consumes. 



And when oppressed by doubt and fear, 

I go to Him in prayer. 
And, talking with Him face to face, 

He saves me from despair. 

'Tis only there I find relief 
From all life's toil and care ; 

He heals my wounded heart of grief, 
And vanquished is my fear. 

22 



The Value of a Smile. 

Come ye wise in mathematics, 

Lend your services awhile ; 
By your juggling art of figures 

Name the value of a smile. 

Life at best may have a shadow 
That a smile would chase away ; 

'Mid dark clouds the sunshine struggling, 
Brightens up the gloomy day. 

And the feint, sad heart is waiting 

For a smile you can bestow; 
The cost to you so very small— 

The result you never know. 



23 



When Th' Leaves Ar' Piifthi' Out. 

There's bustle an' a hustle 

'Mong the tillers uv th' soil ; 
Th' plantin' time's a comin' 

An' the sun's begin tu boil; 
Th' vegetation's growin' 

An' th' birds ar' fiittin' 'bout, 
Fer the world is alus gay, 

When th' leaves ar' puttin' out. 

Til' bees ar' busy buzzin' — 
A hummin' 'bout th' flowers; 

Th' days ar' gittin' longer- 
Sorter stretchin' out th' hours. 

Y' kin see tli' grass a-growin' 
An' th' blossoms bloomin' out — 

I tell y' things ar' hummin' 
When th' leaves ar' puttin' out. 

It seems 'at life's s' pleasant, 

There's s' much uv joy an' song; 
Y' kin see contentment restiu' 

On th' faces uv th' throng. 
May hope an' joy be lastin' — 

Our lives ar' vain 'ithout, 
But all ar' filled 'ith gladness— 

When th' leaves ar' puttin' out. 

24 



Winter, 

''Ha, ha!" said Winter with a laugh that was gay, 
''I'll showfyou Missourians a right stormy day.'' 
So he flung to the breezes that skurry about, 
The whitest of snowflakes that ever fell out. 

"Ha, ha!" said Winter, "You tho't that this year, 

I, once, for a wonder, were not to appear." 

And he tossed from the window whence the north 

wind blows, 
A veritable'mountain of whitest of snows. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed Winter, "I feel rather gay, 
And all weather prophets can't keep me away." 
So he scattered thesnowflakes,the wind he released, 
And the Storm King's fury he gaily increased. 



25 



The Fakir, 

A fakir struck our good old town 

On Friday afternoon; 
Broad-minded, liberal people and 

Their dollars parted soon. 

He worked the same old racket 
He'd worked so oft before ; 

Appealed to generous hearted 
For gifts from out their store. 

And slyly intimating he 

Would make it worth their while- 
Appeals to their better nature 

Brought the fakir quite a pile. 

And then, O wond'rous gall had he 

He coolly left the town. 
To seek for greener fields than these — 

(I doubt they can be found.) 



26 



Th^ Autumn in W Air, 

Th' weeds er tall an' thrifty, 

An' th' corn is tosseled out; 
Tb' medder'scut, an' mellon's ripe— 

(Leastwise hereabout;) 
An' tho' th' day is sultry, 

In th' noontide's sunny glare, 
There's sumthin' 'at reminds y' 

There's autumn in th' air. 

Big ears uv corn ar' noddin' 

An' th' wheat is in th' bin; 
I reckon if it wants tu, 

Autumn's welcome tu begin. 
Th' eveuin' breeze is cooler, 

As th' moon smiles down s' fair. 
An' winkin',bids y' listen 

Tu th' autumn in th' air. 

Sumtimes y' meet a feller 

Who has nothin' else t' do, 
But propound 'at worn out query ; 

"Is it hot enough fer you?" 
But when th' sun is settin' 

An' th' evenin's cool an' fair, 
Don't it feel refreshin' — 

Th' autumn in th' air? 

27 



An' when the busy summer 

Uv life is closin' down; 
An' we feel th' autumn breezes 

Encompass us aroun'— 
May they feel jistas refreshin', 

An' the days be just as fair, 
As we now ar' glad tu welcome— 

With th' autumn in th' air. 



28 



A Prayer, 

More faith, more love, O God I pray; 

Wisdom, strength, O give to-day. 
Help me from this horn* to be 

More consecrated, Lord, to Thee. 

Help me, Lord, in every trial mine ; 

Strengthen me with strength divine. 

Lead me daily, every hour- 
Guard me, cleanse me, by Thy power. 



29 



The Old Man's Reverie, 

Wall, yes, I 'spect I be 
Gittln' childish. But he — 
That is, Bill's youngster, Jack, 
Jes made me fly th' track. 
I'm gittin' old, an' say. 
Old men ain't alus gay ; 
He kain't enjoy th' noise 
An' kapers uv th' boys — 
It's jes' once in awhile 
He's well enough t' smile. 

That boy they call Jack — 
My, he do make things crack ! 
He's sich a sassy chap ; 
Whew, how I'd like tu slap 
His ears ! But then I'm here 
A pauper. An' I fear 
Bill'd jes' get mad'n say: 
^'Dad, yu better go away." 

Bill don't know what I did 
Fer him when he's a kid ; 
Knows nothin' 'bout th' care 
He wuz. He don't know where 
I got th' cash that he 
Wuz glad to get uv me, 
When he wuz near th' wall — 

30 



It wiiz my savin's, all. 

I hadn't left a cent - 

Y' know jes' what that meant: 

I wuz old, my chances slim — 

I went tu live with him. 

Didn't like t' live in town; 
Alus liked tu potter 'roun' 
On th' farm. Bill he 'lowed 
I'd get ust t' it. Proud ! 
Didn't seem bit like th' lad 
'At ust t'help his d»d 
Hoe corn. An' his wife, she, 
Didn't seem t' fancy me. 
An' Jack, that pesky boy — 
He jes' tried t' annoy 
Th' life right out uv me ; 
They let him frail I see. 

Do seem th' world an' me 

Don't 'zackly seem t' gee. 

But I 'spect that I 

Had bes' jes' sorter try 

T' overlook that youngster's ways. 

An' everything he says; 

I'm cranky. Bes' go back 

An' try make up with Jack. 



31 



To The Year '99. 

Back 1 Oh, come back, year ninety-nine, 
Let nie correct those errors of mine ; 
The mistakes I have made, 

Unkind words I've uttered; 
The hearts I have broken 
By cursings I've muttered. 
Back! Oh, come back, year ninety-nine, 
Let me correct those errors of mine. 



Back ! Oh, come back, year ninety-nine. 
Let ine live o'er this poor life of mine — 
The blunders, the failures — 
Time I have squandered ; 
Give back the words from the 
Truth that have wandered. 
Back! Oh, come back, year ninety-nine, 
Let me erase those footprints of mine. 

Back ! Oh, come back, year ninety nine, 
1 fain would correct those errors of mine — 
Opportunity lost. 

Time hurrying on ; 
At last, when I awakened. 
Thou, too, wertgone. 
Back ! Oh, come back, year ninety- nine. 
My heart grieves over those errors of mine. 

32 



Santa is Coming To-night, 



L 



'Way off in dreaniland the reindeer are neio-hlng — 
The children are happy, too happy for playing; 
For this is the night of all the round year, 
When Santa makes presents, the wee hearts to 
cheer. 

Ho! for the presents that Santa will bring; 
How shouts of the children will joyfully ring, 
When they wake in the morning, the dawn's early 

light — 
For all the world knows Santa's coming to-night! 

He's coming with presents for girls and for boys — 
His sleigh is well loaded with wonderful toys; 
His store house is full of things to delight, 
And Santa is coming, yes, coming to-night! 



38 



A Diamond in the Rongh, 

It makes a sight uv dif rence 

In th' look in' uv a man, 
If he wears th' finest linen 

An' shoes uv latest tan; 
But 'taint th' dnds an' polish 

'At alus makes a man — 
They often shield a rascal 

An' make him show up gran'. 

There's lots uv brainless critics 

Th' pictur criticise, 
Acause th' frame an' trimmin's 

Ain't pleasin' tu tlieir eyes. 
Uv course, it looks sum nicer 

T' have a han'some frame — 
But after all th' pictur 

Is jist th' very same. 

Have care in passin' judgment 

On fellers lookin' tough — 
They may be dirty, ragged. 

An' their hearts be good enough. 
An' when y' meet a feller 

Jist dressed up fit tu kill — 
Remember, tho' he's han'some. 

He can be a rascal still. 

34 



It's well— a good appearance, 

An' it cuts jist lots uv ice— 
A feller keepin' slicked up 

An' lookin' purty nice; 
But in that ragged rascal, 

Who looks outlandish tough, 
If y' knew his inmost longin's — 

He's a diamond in th' rough. 



35 



Christmas Bells. 

Chime out, glad bells, o'er hills and dells, 
And set the echoes ringing; 

For once again 'tis Christmas time. 
The world for joy is singing. 

Oh, happy time is Christmas time. 

Let all the earth rejoice ; 
May one and all, tho' great or small, 

Obey the Savior's voice. 

For unto us this day is born, 

A Savior kind and true ; 
And "peace on earth, good will to men," 

His coming was for you. 

So ring, glad bells, o'er hills and dells, 
And set the echoes ringing; 

For ''peace on earth, good will to men," 
The world for joy is singing. 



36 



The Doctor, 

(Dedicated to Dr, J. E. Gartside.) 

Who's the man you want when sick — 
Want him right away, and quick; 
When he comes examines you, 
Says he thinks he'll pull you through? 
The Doctor. 



Who's the man that people owe. 
For his trips thro' rain and snow; 
Who relieves their pains and ills 
With his powders, draughts and pills? 
The Doctor. 



Who's the man you reach in fright 
In the middle of the night, 
Pouring out your wail of woe, 
Pressing liim to quickly go? 
The Doctor. 



And when baby catches cold— 
My, he's worth his weight in gold! 
Then who hurries to its side, 
Tells you that it might have died? 
Tlie Doctor. 

37 



But by working hard and late. 
He who handles life and fate, 
Tells you that the worst is o'er, 
Then you love him more and more- 
The Doctor. 

Who's the man who, to the end, 
Always proves to be your friend ; 
Always faithful to his trust, 
Gives up only when he must? 
The Doctor. 



38 



Chronic Cases. 

Say, donH it tire j^er patience 

When th' tireless talker talks, 
An' don't it make y' narvus 

When th' ceaseless walker walks? 
Don't it make y' weary 

When th' bloomin' boasters boast 
Tellin' facts 'at never happened 

On inland er th' coasts? 

Don't it worry and perplex y' 

When th' chronic loafer's in? 
Ain't got more use fer loafln' 

Than any uther sin. 
An' th' smutty story teller 

Disgusts y' head t' toes, 
While th' scandal monger tells y' 

All he thinks somebody knows. 

This world is plagued 'ith people 

Whose chief pursuit in life, 
Is tu shan all kinds uv labor, 

An' make all kinds uv strife. 
An' it wearies past endurance 

When these chronic cases call, 
I'd be glad tu bid 'em good-by — 

Yas, good-by, once fer all. 

39 



Octoher. 

October, mild, deceptive, 

Warm as a summer's day, 
Follows in the train of months 

And now, alas, holds sway! 
Soon her chilly winds will blast, 

And frost cut down the flower ; 
E'en now the leaves are turning, 

Tho' moistened by a shower. 

Thou harbinger of winter, 

O stay thy ruthless hand ; 
Bring not decay so soon 

On this bright fairyland ! 
And yet, 'tis so to be ; 

All life and nature has its prime, 
And all bow down at last 

Obeying the will of Tiine. 



40 



The Private and His Pard. 

They'er alus shoutin' praises 

Fer th' men 'ith shoulder straps, 
A' wearin' epaulets an' roses 

An' lots uv other traps ; 
But take no sort uv notice 

Uv th' private an' his pard 
What stood up close together 

An' kept a'flghtin' hard. 

It's th' big fine-lookin' gin'ral 

Who all th' praises get, 
But when th' fightin's brewin' 

He stays out uv th' wet; 
An' when th' battle's over 

Conies smilin' up an' sez: 
''Golly, how I whipped 'em 

(My pay will now be riz.") 

Now down at Santiago, 

'Twas Sampson gained th' day 
Tho' th' papers tell us Sampson 

Wuz a dozen miles away ; 
An' only when Cervera 

Had surrendered ev'ry tar, 
Sampson comes up t' receive 'em — 

Prisoners uv war. 

41 



An' y' hear jist lots uv Dewey, 

But what did Dewey do? 
*'He sunk a Spanish squadron, 

An' took Manila, too," 
Now, I beg yer pardin : 

There wuz some privates there 
What help't that Mr. Dewey, 

An' his glory oughter share. 

An' I think th' common private 

Oughter have some leetle praise 
Fer fightin' fer his country 

In a foreign Ian' fer days; 
An' they oughter take some notice 

Uv th' private and his pard, 
Wliat stood up close together 

^n' fought 'em mighty hard. 

Tliree cheers for Mr. Dewey, 

Mr. Sampson, Mr. Schley, 
An' don't fergit that Hobson 

While yer passin' by; 
But let us keep on cheerin' 

A cheerin' mighty hard, 
An' cheer some fer th' private — 

Th' private an' his pard. 



42 



All's Well That Ends Well. 

(Dedicated to Kingston, Mo., Male Quai'tette.) 

Have you heard of the wonderful Male Quartette? 
They sing in such a wonderful way, and yet, 
They never were known to run aground 
Because that the tune could not be found 
Until — have you heard it? Ah, tlien stay, 
I'll tell you what happened to them one day; 
Amusing people out of there wits, 
Fairly throwing them into fits — 
Have you never lieard of that, I say? 

Sunday evening was bright and fair. 
Many good people had gathered there ; 
They listened to songs and one address — 
He quoted Shakespeare just by guess; 
Then the quartette essayed to bring 
A tune from somewhere — they couldn't sing; 
It somehow seemed tliat the tune was "sich," 
That the quartette found it hard to pitch. 

From the audience arose a mighty shout, 

When the first man batted and fanned square out; 

The second strike was but another fan — 

'Twas then the fun had fairly "began." 

They skirmished about in search of the air, 

Charged right and left and everywhere ; 

43 



While the audience laughed, as audiences will, 
When one man sweats and the others chill. 
By the help of the organ and organist fair, 
The tune was discovered— I know not where. 

And the quartette sang as they should have sung, 
And the echoes rang as they should have rung, 
Had not the tune from the singers flown, 
Like a feather white on the west wind blown. 



44 



Uncle Sam^s Burden, 

Take up yer burden, Samu'l— 

Y've got tu lick 'em now; 
S'puU yer coat an' roll yer sleeves, 

An' show 'em you know how. 
Y' didn't mean t' harm 'em, 

An' treated 'em like white, 
Filipinos ain't ust t' that, 

An' so they want tu fight. 

Take up yer burden, Samu'l — 

Y've started in tu whip ; 
If yer ammunition's failing, 

.list load another ship. 
An' make 'em dusky rascals 

Toe th' mark 'at you put down. 
An' jist keep yer weather eye 

On uther folks aroun'. 

Take up yer burden, Samu'l — 

Tu civilize yer friends. 
An' they'll thank y' for it 

Afore the century ends. 
If it cant be done 'ith kindness, 

Jist give 'em understand 
That Uncle Sam's a'comin' 

Tu occupy th' land. 

45 



Take up yer burden, Samu'l— 

Go forth upon th' earth, 
An' weep where there is wailin' 

An' laugh where there is mirth. 
Help yer humble brothers 

Tu rise up, be a man, 
Give 'em your protection — 

Jist take em by th' hand. 

Take up yer burden, Samu'l — 

Shield th' weak ag-ainst th' strong, 
An' lend your kindly sarviees 

Where anything is wrong. 
An' nation's will respect y' 

They've got tu anyhow, 
But th' thing 'at's right an proper 

Is what we're after now. 



46 



The Beaten Path. 

Adown the beaten path I trod, 

Nor turned I either way ; 
For briars and brambles did beseem 

To hedge secure the way. 

And to the right and to the left 

I saw a verdant green ; 
Tho' briars and brambles grew beside, 

Yet flowers sprung up between. 

And cooling streams and woodland shade 

Invited one to rest; 
And wondered I, as on I trod: 

''Why lacketh it a guest?" 

Then thought I to scramble up 

Midst hedge and thorn and stone, 

Out into the verdant green — 
Where I might stand, alone. 

But others trod that beaten path 
My efforts laughed to scorn : 

"Many a better man than thou. 
Hath tried that hope, forlorn." 

47 



Like many a braver one than I, 
The scoffing turned me back. 

And still I tread in life's domain 
Adown the beaten track. 



48 



The Old Man And The Hoe. 

Y' kin talk erbout th' man 'at's a handlin' uv th' 

hoe 
A'bein' th' hicJividool 'at makes th' whole worl' go; 
Y' kin fence him in 'ith verses and give him lots uv 

praise, 
And sing his many virtues an' honor him always; 
But it strikes my understandin', we've waked up 

ruther late — 
'Cause the good ol' man who hoed his corn is gittin' 

out uv date. 

He's gittin' old an' lonesome as th' worl' is marchin' 

on — 
Tu him there's no use livin' fer th' good old ways 

are gone. 
There's some new-fangled 'rangementfercultivatin' 

now, 
An' all the old man's neighbors use a shaded sulky 

plow; 
An' they cut their corn an' bind it 'ith a rattlin' 

new machine — 
Sich times as these be anyhow th' old man never 

seen. 

He alus wuz respected but they never knew his 

worth, 
An' his quaint old ways are now th' subject uv our 

mirth ; 

49 



In this dauntless age of hurry he's crowded tu th' 
rear — 

His rediculous appearance makes him seem s' very- 
queer. 

His clothes ain't in th' fashun an' they're old and 
faded too — 

They're part uv his very bein', what kin th' old 
man do? 

Yes, th' man 'at honored labor by the usin' uv 
th' hoe, 

Is now an old back number, his method is too 
slow; 

Jist as well lay down th' hoe like his old friend 
Uncle Ned, 

Fer tho' th' weeds grow jist th' same, his occupa- 
tion's dead. 

It's my own private 'pinion 'at th' man 'at's in it 
now. 

Is th'man 'at does th'bossin' uv th' man 'at rides 
th' plow. 



50 



The Flag Abroad, 



Where waves the palms in tropic climes, beneath 
an eastern sun, 

There waved a banner whose sure decline long since 
has begun ; 

An empire swayed by ignorance; proud, haughty 
and austere. 

Ruled as with a rod of iron and governed men 
through fear. 

An humble people, sorely tried and long so sore op- 
pressed, 

At last arose as with a very legion demons sure 
possessed. 

And sought by efforts, wild in purpose but the more 
intense 

To bravely fight and drive oppression from its strong- 
defense. 



Then sailed a mighty squadron one morn at break 
of day 

Into the fairest harbor of that land so far away. 

The flag that floated from the mast on that event- 
ful morn 

Was the stars and stripes, 'neath its folds was true 
liberty born. 

Emblem of liberty, of peace ; emblem of power as 

51 



well, 

Lowered not to any foe, since first it proudly rose 

to dwell 
High over all the banners of the world, the flag of 

flags — 
Compared to it the opposing banners were only rags. 

Right gallantly the youth of this fair Freedom's 
land. 

Did battle wage unto the victory, complete and 
grand ; 

Advanced the millenium a full hundred years or 
or more ; 

Sent thrilling echoes around the world and o'er and 
o'er. 

Vict'ry of the century ! How far effecting human- 
kind. 

None can estimate or rightly tell except the Mas- 
ter-mind ; 

The civilizing master-stroke ! The triumph of the 
age, 

Recorded now in letters bright on history's fairest 
page. 

There waved the flag triumphant; illumed with 

dawning light; 
The swift avenger of the wrong, the cliainpion of 

the right. 
There waves the flag to-day, still onward borne to 

destiny — 
Misguided ones, why will ye spurn the offer to be 

free? 
There may "Old Glory" proudly wave until the 

darkness wanes 
And light and liberty exist as in our near domains. 

52 



Exalt the flag-, and cherish it in province and in 

town — 
Haste the day when peace shall come — Don't pull 

the old flag down ! 



53 



Kindness. 

Just one little ray of sunshine 
Will scatter a world of gloom ; 

A night so dark did ne'er hefall 

Where light could find no room. 

A kind word just in season 

Will cheer a heart that is sad ; 

Or only a smile as you pass along 
May make some poor heart glad. 

Just one little act of kindness 
As you hurry along to-day, 

May lighten a heart that is burdened 
As they travel a weary way. 

Life is but short, and the sunshine. 
Is somehow mingled witli rain ; 

He lives best who does the most good, 
And is silent in trouble and pain. 



54 



Papa, Be a Good Boy. 

My daily occupation leads me early from my home, 
But there are floating ringlets I see where'er I 

roam; 
A childish voice is speaking that fills my heart 

with joy, 
I hear her now so plainly: '^Pax)a, be a good boy." 

Her chubby arms thrown 'round my neck as I am 

bending low, 
I bid her be a good girl always just before I go ; 
To which her childish fancy and her love without 

alloy, 
Prompts her to reply with fervor: ''Papa, be a good 

boy." 

And oft amid the busy cares and toil and daily 

strife. 
When I'm forced to meet temptation, as all must 

do in life ; 
• Then her parting admonition my selfish thoughts 

destroy, 
I hear her saying softly: "Now, Papa, be a good 

boy." 



55 



Duty and Desire. 

Wild raged the tumult in my heart. 
My temples throbbed in pain ; 

Desire and Duty waged a war 

That each fought hard to gain. 

And these two forces daily clashed. 

I marked the battle well, 
Yet ofttimes 'mid the din and strife, 

The victor could not tell. 



And thus are greatest battles fought- 
Within our hearts and lives; 

The world gives little heed or care, 
And knows not which survives. 



56 



Where Siveeps Missouri's Turbid Tide. 

Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide, 

Thro' plain and valley fair; 
From mountain springs its waters flow, 

Fed by streamlets here and there; 
Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide, 

A happy people dwell. 

The land, a verdant Eden spot, 
Where grains profusely grow; 

The sunny clime is fairer still 
Than any clime I know. 

Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide^ 
The clime is richly fair. 

Nor idleness nor discontent 

Its borders never know; 
For every need for every one, 

The land doth sure bestow; 
Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide 

Contentment is supreme. 

The farmer's toil is well repaid, 

Mechanic's toil as well; 
Towns are full of enterprise 

And all are doing well. 
Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide, 

Yes, all are doing well. 

57 



Oh, come ye weary ones afar 

Who labor but in vain ; 
Come to the garden spot of all — 

With us the song refrain: 
Where sweeps Missouri's turbid tide, 

Contentment reigns supreme. 



58 



Indifference, 

I chide thee, friend, that when distress 

Had marked me for her prey. 
Thou did not to my rescue come, 

In that my saddest day. 
Careless, aloof, thou idly stood— 

I will not think from fear ; 
Indifference thy voice did still, 

You spake no word of cheer. 



59 



Awake, 

Awake ! Why stand ye idle now? 

Why this lazy, flippant mood? 
Think ye all of life is living, 

For naug-ht concerns thyself but food? 
Rouse ye up and willing work ; 

And if ye find none other, 
And if thy work completed be. 

Then help thy weaker brother. 

Not with listless step and slow. 
Seeking ease afar from where 

Life's fiercest battles rage and roar — 
Where brave men do and dare. 

Awake! Improve life's early years. 
Dare a thriftless journey make! 

Thy time is in Another's hand. 
And thy destiny at stake. 



60 



My Good Ole Home, 

Doan ax me fo' ter lebe my good ole home 
Whar my pickanninies play; 

Would break dis heart fo' ter hab ter roam- 
In dis big wode worl' ter stray. 

De winder am small whar de sun i)eeps in, 
De chimbly am built ob stone ; 

De roof bar'ly keeps out de rain an' snow 
When winds roun' de cabin do moan. 



But dey ain't no manshun in dis wide worP 
Dat would seein like home ter me, 

'Cept de little log hut whar I wuz bo'n, 
Dat Massa done gib ter me. 



61 



Decoration Day. 



Once more the rolling yea.r has brought 
The day held sacred to the boys in blue, 
Who through the great rebellion fought, 
To make the Union one anew ; 
To save the nation that the fathers framed, 
When they had wrought thro' toil and tears, 
Its freedom from a foreign land. 

Lay on the graves of heroes dead. 

The sweetest flowers of May; 

And may the memory of their deeds 

Renew our love of country; 

Feed anew the flame of patriot zeal, 

That we, the heritors of what they gained 

May value rightly the great trust, 

They, dying, left to us. 

And those who come in after years — 

The Union, one — and only one. 



62 



Tireless Talker, 

Acquainted with Tireless Talker? 

Perhaps yoiiVe heard the name, 
Known and dreaded both near and far- 

And rather a doubtful fame. 



When the sun arose in the morning 
He was on his way up town ; 

And he talked, and he talked all day. 
And after the sun went down. 



He talked of his neighbor's business, 
Telling just what he would do — 

He could manage his own affairs. 
And all of his neighbors too. 

But the neighbors shunned Mr. Talker 
Can you guess the reason why? 

They were very busy people 
And had other fish to fry. 



But he kept on plymg his business 
'Till a few short years had passed. 

When the health of Tireless Talker 
Seemed failing him very fast. 

63 



Friends called it quick consumption, 
But here's wliat tlie doctor said : 

''If Mr. Talker hadn't talked so much, 
He mia-ht not now be dead." 



64 



The Old Water Mill. 

Alone in the silent wood it stands — 
The moss-covered wheel is still; 
Time, with his nimble fing-ers of years, 
Has hushed the song of the mill. 

The coarse of the noisy stream is changed, 

It ripples and glides on by ; 
Eddying, whirling, dashing along — 

But the old, old wheel is dry. 

The oriole builds his nest above 

And cheerily sings his lay; 
The woodbine clings to the mouldy walls 

And hastens the sure decay. 

Foliage clinging on every hand — 
How cooling the shade is there ! 

While a solemn stillness hovers around, 
Pervading the very air. 

And on this relic of other days 
I gaze with tear-dimmed eye; 

Full well I know it marks the time 
Of an hundred years gone by. 

65 



Gone are the days of its usefulness, 
Hushed is the song- of the mill ; 

Alone in the silent wood it stands— 
The old wheel now is still. 



66 



The Feller Who DuznH Knoiv it AIL 

I'm lookin' fer a feller, 

An' I don't know his name — 
I never seen his smilin' face 

An' know not whence he came. 
I can't say jist fer certain 

If he's short an' fat, er tall, 
But I'm lookin' fer th' chap 

Who duzn't know it all. 

I've met all sorts uv fellers 

In various kind uv climes, 
An' they all seemed very knowin' — 

Knowed it all sumtimes; 
But I'm lookin' fer th' feller 

Who has his share uv gall, 
Yet don't go 'round a claimin' 

'At he thinks he knows it all. 

I kin find jist lots uv fellers — 

Don't know, p'raps you're one — 
Who alus ar' a tellin' 

Jist how everything is done ; 
Know all about th' runnin' 

Uv th' government an' sich; 
Kin lay down rules uv action 

'At'd make a poor man rich ; 

67 



Kin cut more ice'n you kin 

When summer's at it's height, 
An' th' puttin' up o' hay 

Is a winter day's delight. 
But I want tu meet th' feller 

If he's livin' on this ball, 
Who is willin' to allow, 

'At he duzn't know it all. 



68 



The Goal, 

To worlds unconquered we would rise — 
We set our mark exceeding high, 
Hoping to reach the shining goal, 
And then, content, in i^eace, to die. 

To die. Yet by and through that death, 
Our every liope clings to the thought, 
That when released by that last breath — 
We live the life that Christ's blood bought. 



69 



The Banquet, 

Th' 'Lumni 'Sociation 

Held a banquet to'ther night; 
Th* board wuz spread 'ith viands 

'At wuz simply out uv sight. 
An' ther's a pint 'at's truer 

If y' know th' situation: 
We live in ol' Missouri — 

An' wuz shy an invitation ! 



70 




O, come where the waters are glistn'ing so bright. 



The Haunts of The Woodland, 

O, come to the haunts of the woodland with ma, 
And down by the laughing brookside ; 

Where the oriole builds his nest in the tree 
With the help of his fond young bride. 

O, come where the waters are glist'ning so bright, 
As they eddy thro mosses and fern ; 

Where the elm and the willow nod welcome to you 
As the breeze gives their branches a turn. 

Come list to the chorus of woodland choirs 
From tlie loft in the temple of trees ; 

Come watch the antics o^ squirrels at play — 
Come list to the song- of the bees. 



71 



Boyhood Toivn. 



There's towns and cities and villages fair, 

With hustle and bustle and roar, 
And whistles and gongs and ringing of bells 

And all sorts of noises galore. 
I've been all over the state of Missou, 

From border across, up and down ; 
Try hard as I can I cannot recall 

So pleasant and joyful a town. 

Boys of all sizes and ages are there, 

And they have such Jolly good fun; 
They play many games by such funny names 

They jump and they race and they run. 
For few are the years and few are the tears. 

That come in this town to annoy; 
The world moves so slow, you scarce see it go, 

In this glorious home of the boy. 

I entered this town one bright, sunny day. 

It seems but a short time ago ; 
Tho' reckoned by days or reckoned by years 

It has been quite a while, I know. 
But I entered the town as the other lads do. 

My route was the same old way ; 
There is but one road that leads to the town — 

There is only one leads away. 

72 



When Life and I were as yet but new friends, 

And witli Old Fatlier Time's consent, 
I went out with my newfound friend one day- 

On a mission of joy intent. 
And into this village called Boyhood town, 

Life led me when the sun was bright ; 
I tarried few days— tho' Time called it years ! 

But the days were days of delight. 

Then at the bidding of old Father Time 

I passed out of the town one day ;i 
How well I recall the last sounds I heard 

Were the shouts of the boys at play. 
And ever anon, as I travel thro' life. 

Where sorrow and joy each abound, 
I seek for a village where life is as free— 

Well knowing it cannot be found. 

Oh boys, who inhabit this town to-day, 

Be glad and be joyful at play ; 
For you too, must leave that village behind, 

And out in the world you must stray. 
And tho' you travel all over Missou, 

From border across, up and down; 
And e'en tho' you travel the wide world o'er. 

You'll ne'er find so joyful a town. 



73 



My Ship. 



Over the bounding deep blue sea — 
The sea of future life I scan ; 

XiO, the masts of a ship I see, 

Slowly moving toward the land ! 

And my heartbeats fast as I gaze 
On that ship far out on the sea; 

I hope and pray that its cargo 
Maybe largely of joy for me, 



74 



Mistah Funston, 

Mistah Funston, jes a question, 

Yo' c'n answer me er not — 
'Taint yo' age er polytics, 

Ner how much tin yo' got; 
I ain' a-carin' muchly 

If yo' shorter tall er slim, 
But I'd mighty like t' know 

Who learnt yo' how ter swim. 

Dey say dat in de Fillypines 

Yo' swum acrost a crick — 
De bullet an' de cannon balls 

Jes' a-flyin' awful thick! 
Den yo' follered up de rascals. 

Sent 'em whirlin' back. 
An' de whole wide worl' listen 

Ter hear yer rifles crack. 

En now, yo' come a-marchin' 

En folks dey crowd aroun', 
You'se mos' th' biggest man 

Dat ever wuz in town ! 
I throw up my ol' black hat 

When I see 'em cheerin' him, 
Fo' Funston he's from Kansas — 

En Funston's in de swim. 

75 



Croivding Worry From. The Mind' 

If you're longing for the pleasure that you hope will 
come with years, 

Tho' the way seems dark and misty with a host of 
bitter tears; 

If you hope that in the future you will sweet con- 
tentment find, 

Just persist in crowding worry from its lodging in. 
the mind. 



If you're faint and sad from waiting for a joy you 
hope will come. 

As a troop with flying colors to the music of the 
drum ; 

Tho' you're weary from the waiting and tiie world 
is so unkind, 

Still persist in driving worry from your over-bur- 
dened mind. 

Never battle trouble until the trouble's well in 

view, 
And tlien you know exactly what there is that you 

must do; 
And never climb a mountain peak or cross a bridge 

or plain. 
Until it lies before you and you see your path is 

plain. 

76 



For life is short and worry only adds another load^ 
When we niig^ht be gladly treading down a very 

pleasant road. 
And much of care and sorrow you will avoid,! find, 
By simply crowding worry from its lodging in the 

mind. 

LofC. 



77 



Trouble, 

Y' can't expect t' flourish 

'Ithout a single woe ; 
Y've got tu meet some trouble 

N' matter where y' go. 
Stop growlin' an' a-jawin' — 

A-flndin' fault 'ith life; 
Yer in it sure an' certain, 

Y've got tu stand th' strife. 

Don't mope around complainin 

Yer lot is hard tu bear; 
It may be hard an' bitter — 

Y've only got yer share. 
Tliere's lots uv other mortals 

As miserable as you 
I doubt not fer a minit 

They've cause fer feelin' blue. 

Its been my observation — 

N' matter what goes wrong, 
Y' ain't goin' t' better it 

With a wailin' sort uv song. 
Jist buckle on yer harness. 

Don't balk er kick er snort— 
Y'll find that life's allright, 

If you do what y' ort. 

78 



The Old Brotvn Water Jug, 

Poets sing of sweetest music that their ears have 

ever heard ; 
With some it is a cricket or a tuneful mocking-bird. 
But I remember music, made not by bird nor bug, 
But the gug- 
gle, 

gug- 
gle, of the 
water in the jug. 



How well do I remember in those days of long ago — 
was reared a farmer. In the harvest time, you 
know, 
To some shade in the harvest field our weary selves 

we'd lug. 
To hear the gug- 
gle, 
gug- 
gle, of the 
water in the jug. 

How sweet to thirsty harvest hands to liave a mo- 
ment's rest, 

When summer sun was hottest and the harvest at 
its best; 

79 



To gather 'neath the shade tree and the old brown 

vessel hug, 
And hear the gug- 
gle, 

gug- 
gle, of the 
water in the jug. 

And oft I think of comrades of those days that now 

are past, 
Tho' some of them are living , the Reaper gathers 

fast; 
And to me the sweetest music is not the bird nor 

bug,— 
It is the gug- 
gle, 

gug- 
gle, of the 
water in the jug. 



80 



Jus' Keep Still. 

If yer feelin' kind o' blue, 

Jus' keep still; 
Brighter days in store fer you, 

Jus' keep still. 
Xiife's stream is deep an' wide, 
An' you can't change th' tide. 
Some things you must abide — 

Jus' keep still. 

If th' worP is movin' slow, 

Jus' keep still; 
You can't hurry it you know. 

Jus' keep still. 
Fer, when y' sum it all 
This worl' is quite a ball, 
An' you ar' ruther small — 

Jus' keep still. 

Don't claim 'at you ar' wise. 

Jus' keep still. 
Other folks have ears an' eyes, 

Jus' keep still. 
If you ar' great, no doubt 
But that folks'll find it out — 
It'll soon be noised about. 

Jus' keep still. 

81 



An' in trouble, I may say, 

Jus' keep still. 
Clouds '11 come — an' go away — 

Jus' keep still 
Life's stream is deep an' wide» 
You ar' goin' with th' tide; 
Some things y' must abide — 

Jus' keep still. 



82 



The Feller Who Can, Will and Does, 

I would sing his praises forever and aye — 
The fellow who can, will and does; 

He's one among hundreds or thousands I say — 
The fellow who can, will ai^d does. 



So many persons will tell you they can, 
When you give them a task to do; 

But that fact alone don't amount to much 
If undemonstrated to you. 

And others are free to tell you they will; 

And they will even name the day; 
Will faithfully promise to keep their word — 

'Tis only another delay. 

It is not the fellow who can and will. 
That you are glad to have about; 

But it's the fellow who can, will and does — 
Him, the world cannot do without. 

I would sing his praises forever and aye — 
The fellow who can, will and does; 

He's one among hundreds or thousands I say 
The fellow who can, will and does. 

83 



The End. 

Tho' fond affection gently ding's 

And bids the time depart, 
And human longings and desires 

Breathe hope in every heart; 
Yet comes the time, or soon or late, 

To which all courses tend, 
Inevitable as death itself, 

Will come at last — the End. 



84 



Tar*- U 1901 



MAR 5 1901 



